


Pillow Talk

by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett (xaandria)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dialogue-Only, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaandria/pseuds/Jacqueline%20Albright-Beckett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Wasn’t asleep yet. You okay?”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“What happens if I get my Grace back?”</em>
</p><p>Conversations with the lights out, on the edges of sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think your Heaven will be?”

“Assuming I get to go?”

“I will punch whoever is in charge until they let you in.”

“I don’t see how anyone could argue with that logic. A cabin beside a river, probably. Somewhere peaceful. No mosquitoes. And an endless supply of fresh raspberries in the fridge.”

“Sounds pretty nice.”

“And you, of course.”

“Of course. We eating anything besides raspberries?”

“We could order Chinese from time to time.”

“Better be beer in that fridge, too.”

“Every kind imaginable.”

“Big fridge.”

“Heaven.”

“Right.”

“What about your Heaven?”

“I’ve seen my Heaven. I think I’d rather bunk over in yours.”

“It’s the raspberries, isn’t it?”

“It’s the raspberries.”

 

* * *

 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t asleep yet. You okay?”

“What happens if I get my Grace back?”

“Probably some pretty freaky sex.”

“No, Dean - I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’m not going anywhere. Are you? …Cas? Are you?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t want to. I’m not just here as a…”

“Consolation prize? Something to do while you’re down and out?”

“Don’t get angry. Please. I didn’t mean it like…you said it once. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“I was quoting ‘Spider-Man,’ you ass.”

“It’s still true. If I get my Grace back…”

“I get it, man.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

“Sharks don’t have bones.”

“What?”

“Sharks don’t have bones. They’re - what’s the word?”

“I think it’s ‘cartilaginous.’ Why are we talking about sharks?”

“What do they look like under x-ray?”

“Dean, why are we talking about sharks and x-rays?”

“I was just thinking about it.”

“And it keeps you up at night?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you decided to keep me up with it too?”

“Just something to talk about. We’ve been busy lately. Haven’t had much time to, you know, connect.”

“…What  _do_  sharks look like under x-ray?”

 

* * *

 

“Do you know what a contranym is?”

“A what?”

“A contranym. It’s a word that can mean the opposite of itself.”

“…Cas, you’ve gone over the deep end.”

“Have not. Dust. Dust is a contranym. You can dust something by putting dust on it, or you can dust it by removing the dust.”

“…Huh. Or itch.”

“Itch?”

“Yeah. Something itches, then you itch it.”

“…You can’t itch an itch. You scratch it.”

“You can itch it, too.”

“No, you can’t. Itch isn’t - you can’t  _use_  itch that way.”

“Twenty bucks says I’m right.”

“You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you awake?”

“Now I am. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I kept leaving. Before.”

“Before…?”

“When I was an angel.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Not so long. I can see now that…Dean, I felt like I hadn’t left. I always had my attention towards you, and towards Sam, and I was always listening, no matter where I was, and it just never occurred to me that you would consider me absent, because in the way of angels…I was still there. Just not physically.”

“Cas, what brought this on?”

“I don’t know. I just started thinking about it. And I’m sorry. I was being cruel.”

“Well, you - it sounds like you didn’t know -”

“I should have. I should have taken the time to find out why you were so upset, if I didn’t understand. I never did. I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Calm down. C’mere. That was…hell, it was another life ago. For both of us. We both did dumb things. It’s behind us now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay. Shh. It’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Were you ever, like, a kid angel? Are there such things?”

“Not like you’re thinking, no. Our forms weren’t miniature versions of our elders. But - you could say there was a period of maturation. One I think some of my brothers and sisters skipped.”

“Gabriel?”

“To name one.”

“And they were all…siblings? I mean -”

“Again. Not like you’re thinking. Not like you and Sam. There was a…bond, yes, but…how to say it.”

“…You fall asleep there?”

“No. I’m thinking. There really isn’t an analogue. Angels don’t feel emotions, not like humans do. Humans feel emotional bonds physically. Literally, it’s a soup of neurotransmitters and hormones and neurons all mixing together to create emotions, and you - we, I guess - we humans somehow make sense of it all. Angels don’t have that. Angels are bonded because we’re - they’re - told they are.”

“No emotions? At all?”

“I don’t want to say none, but…compared to what humans have the capacity to feel? None. Angels experience emotive reactions. Humans literally  _are_  their emotions - our bodies create what we then feel.”

“…That must have been confusing.”

“At first, yes. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

* * *

 

“You still up, Cas?”

“I don’t think I’m going to even be able to sleep.”

“Me neither. …If - if we get your Grace back tomorrow…”

“You want to know if I’m going to stick around.”

“Kinda. Yeah.”

“I want to. I do.”

“But.”

“Yes. But.”

 

* * *

 

“Cas, wherever you are…you said whenever you were gone, you could still hear me. Were still here, in an angel’s sense of the word. Your sense of the word. Don’t really have anything important to say, I just…first night sleeping alone in a while, you know? I got used to talking to you. Even if it was about stupid stuff, like how you couldn’t taste the difference between lemons and limes or -”

“Hello, Dean.”

“…Hey.”

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.”

“Liar.”

“…Should you even be here?”

“Where else should I be?”

“I dunno, Heaven? Some other celestial plane?”

“No. I…”

“Cas?”

“I gave it up.”

“You what?”

“I want this. You. Arguing about citrus. Feeling my heart beat. Holding my breath and getting dizzy. Allergies and sex and sprained ankles and nondairy french vanilla coffee creamer that will probably kill me. Sacrificing my Grace for mortality…was far less of a sacrifice than sacrificing mortality for my Grace.”

“You’re crying.”

“That makes two of us.”

“S’pose it does.”


End file.
